What's in a name????!!!! sigh ...

Recently, I stumbled upon a rather interesting blog by my good friend Chivukula Venkata Subramanya Suresh (Suri) where he was expressing his undying gratitude to his parents for naming him thus. My name has always been something that’s caused me never-ending heart burn, so I thought that it was only natural that my second post be on the subject.

Blogs on mallu names gone bad and mallu parents’ naming skills are a dime a dozen but what you didn’t know was that Gult parents were equally bad … but they don’t really have a choice because ‘gult’ tradition requires babies to be named after the taluk, subtaluk, municipality, ward, street address and so on of the location that the baby was born in. This is an amazing way of keeping track of where your kids were born. Just ask a gult where he was born and he’ll give you the exact location, give or take a few meters … almost as good as the most sophisticated GPS systems in existence if you ask me.

If you thought that 'gult' parents were bad namers, the worst possible namers are parents who in over zealous religiousness decide to name their newborns after their favourite God. Not that I have anything against God. Well, maybe I do … er … yeah ... lost my flow of thoughts there for a second. Now, I’m sure a name like Jesus (pronounced heyzooz) is still cool in a neat latino kind of way but, it’s when you’re named Srimurugan Veluswamy that things really get out of hand.

I happen to have a 'mallu' mother who in a spate of religious fervor decided to name her first (and only) born after the God of her husband's (tam) culture. Hence I would, all those years ago come to be christened Srimurugan Veluswamy ... not exactly the kind of name you'd associate with a cute, chubby, wide eyed infant staring up at you from it's crib. I still can't imagine how my mother could look at me tenderly and whisper into my ears ... "I love you more than the world itself, little one ... I’ll never let anything happen to you … I think I'll call you Srimurugan Veluswamy ... " Geeeeez !! Mom!! Didn’t you say that you’d never let anything happen to me?

Well if you think that that’s the worst name that my darling parents have found it in their kind hearts to bestow upon the apple of their eyes, think again. My real name is not embarrassing, just really hard to pronounce (for about 98% of the human race … the rest have speech impediments and find it surprisingly easy to pronounce). It’s the ‘pet’ name which has caused me the most amount of embarrassment over the years. Let me explain the concept of ‘pet’ names to the reader. It’s the name that they might have given a pet if they had one. But since they had none, they decide to confer upon the next four legged thing they set their eyes upon, that most disgraceful of names. It’s then that you decide to crawl on all fours into the hall wondering what all the furor is about (you’d know better than to do that now). My pet name is too painful to mention here. But most people know it anyway (oh the pain !).

Over the years, I would be called a number of things (I think I've had more names than Lord Vishnu himself at some point in time). If I had a dollar for every name I’ve been called over the years, the US money supply might have been in shambles by now. But the fact of the matter is that I’m not a rich man today but I’ve still had to respond to all kinds of names over the years. There was a time when different people simply addressed me by unique names, their own creations or borrowed ideas, that they’d decided to christen me with for whatever sick perverted reason that had prompted them to do so. I could know in an instant who it was that was addressing me (voices are so hard to distinguish … all you filthy mortals sound the same :D ). It’s something like setting unique ring tones for different people on your cell phone. If I heard ‘Morgan’ or ‘Freeman’, for instance, I knew in a flash that it was Rowen and if I heard ‘Tim’ (Henman) or ‘Father murgi’, it could be none other than the great darth midnightmare himself. If I heard ‘murgopatrix’ or ‘murgallica’ or ‘murgeopterix’ or any other such perversion, it could be none other than Lord Naxtazzmataur himself. So much so, that I at some point in time stopped responding to the name ‘Srimurugan’ itself. I’ve missed my roll call so many times on this account. I’ve often wondered who this ‘Srimurugan’ character was and why he never turned up for classes, during my engineering days. It was only after a few more names had been called out by the professor and my neighbours’ furious jabs had finally begun to hurt that it would dawn on me that ‘Srimurugan’ might actually be my own name.

When I was really little, I’ve tried every trick in the book to get people to address me by my real name but have always failed. “Srimurugan is a God’s name”, I would say and “God will punish you if you call me murgi”, but to what avail? Kids can be cruel but can I really blame them for insisting on calling me murgi? I can name atleast 20 countries where kids could get beat up for having a name like Srimurugan. Oh! why couldn’t my parents have named me something cool … sigh! It’s not like my Mother herself hasn’t stepped in on numerous occasions to ‘persuade’ the other kids to call me ‘Srimurugan’. But murgi stuck like gum to the bottom of a shoe … and it’s stuck on to this day.

A nick name is a good thing. It gives you an identity. But, with a name like Srimurugan, having an identity should be the least of a person’s problems. Someday, when they invent a time machine, I’ll probably go back in time and kill the first kid who called me ‘murgi’. But, then again I might be wasting my time, as I would have come to be called murgi anyway (You can’t change the course of destiny :D ), considering the fact that there was the ‘meri jaan … murgi ke ande …’ campaign airing on television at that time.

But, you actually realize that your nick name has replaced your actual name itself when the entire junior batch in your college knows only 'good ol' murgi’ and never knew that a person called Srimurugan Veluswamy even existed. An amusing incident comes to mind. During final placements, when a pcom controls member runs into the waiting room and screams himself hoarse with cries of ‘Srimurugan Veluswamy’, yours truly walks up to him and pulls at his sleeve saying – “Lets go dude. Tell me about the interviews so far”. I kid you not, the controls member just looks at me with a most demeaning stare , says ‘Hat be’ (Get lost in Hindi) in the most insulting manner possible and then turns back into the room and continues shrieking –“Srimurugan Veluswamy, interview call for XYZ co.”. Well, maybe it was the new hair(less)-style that yours truly got for the placement season but then again you could possibly understand how badly out of hand the situation had gotten.

If you thought my perils ended there, you aint heard nothin’ yet. I kid you not … the following incident actually happened. During a group discussion conducted by a company during the summers, a GD member actually commented on the point that I had just made thus – “As pointed out by murgi …er … yeah … the economy of China … blah blah …” I rest my case!! %@^#

I’ve never really thought that my real name was hard to pronounce if that’s the reason why most people preferred to call me ‘murgi’. The thought had never once crossed my mind for the first 23 years of my existence. I sincerely thought that all my friends called me ‘murgi’ because they really liked me (did I mention that I was naïve?) and hence decided to name me after their favourite gastronomic infatuation. Somewhere along the line, I realized that my vegetarian friends (therefore) might have been sabotaging my name for a laugh or two at my expense :D.

Another interesting incident, again during roll call, but this time at IIM comes to mind. Who could ever forget professor AKM who took MANAC II at Hel(L)? I, for one, could never forget him. The SOB flunked me! But I forgive him for that. But what I could never forgive him for is the following. He never quite got my name right from the beginning (owing to its being a name that Martian parents gave their kids … either that or the bloke couldn’t read English). For, he could never say ‘Srimu-roo-gan’ but would always end up saying ‘Srimu-goo-ran’. One day, he throws his hands up in frustration during roll call and says – “Srimu-goo-ran, your name is really hard to pronounce. I think I’ll shorten it.” It was one of those moments when you feel that the heavens have just burst open with chants of ‘Hallelujah!!’. I thought he was going to simplify my name to an easily pronounceable ‘Sri’ or something short and sweet that even a drooling toddler who was just learning how to speak could easily pronounce, but that, unfortunately was not to be. Imagine how shocked I was when AKM says – “Your name is really hard to pronounce. So I think I’ll just shorten it to something easy and quick to say. I think I’ll call you … mu-goo-ran”. It’a good thing my neighbour just happened to be carrying smelling salts that day or I might have slipped into a coma for sure!

Srimurugan Veluswamy is also a rather difficult name to carry off when most people tell you that you look ‘bong’ (Bengali) when you meet them for the first time. More on that angle later. The number of bongs I’ve had to disappoint by responding in English … sigh! I know that the lord has been kind to me having blessed me with ‘bong good looks’, but then, I can’t find it in my heart to tell a bong that my name is Srimurugan … not after he’s spent the last half an hour speaking to me in bong. You should see the shock in their eyes (you aint seen the look of ‘saucer-eyed horror’ until you’ve seen a bong in shock) when you muster all the politeness that you have in you and tell them that you’re not a bong but a tam and a tam with the most tam sounding name possible, at that too!

Somewhere along the line, I became a metal head and a guitarist. It was then that I decided upon ‘the mutant cannibal chicken from hell’ as an alter ego for the musician in me and I guess I owe my thanks to Harsha (AMD) for ‘el pollo del infierno’ as an alter ego for the writer in me. At the end of the day, that’s what nick names are, I guess. They could be looked at one's alter egos. At home, I’m what my parents call me and with my friends I transform into ‘good ol’ murgi’. On stage I’m the 'mutant cannibal chicken from hell' and when I write, I’m ‘el pollo del infierno’, your worst nightmare :D.

What’s in a name you ask? It's probably the most important part of a person’s identity (some people might even argue that a person’s name IS his identity). If a person’s name is his identity then my identity was doomed right from the start. I’ve made it a point to introduce myself as Srimurugan or ‘Sri’ to my colleagues at PwC, so that they at least learn my real name … don’t want any uncomfortable situations in a board room meeting you see :D.

Jokes apart, it’s not like I absolutely detest my real name, nick name or even my confounded ‘pet’ name (they’re MY names after all). But I guess I can express some disgruntlement regarding the way things have been. But, if recent studies are anything to be believed, that a person’s name actually helps decide what he / she becomes in his / her life (apparently teachers will grade people will certain names better than they do others …and so on), I am whatever I am today because of my name(s). I love being me! Ask anybody :D

... Friends call me murgi ... but my foes know and fear me as 'el pollo del infierno'. (er ... I've always wanted to say that)

El Pollo Del Infierno hath spoken …